


Nobody Said Anything About Magic

by sunstarunicorn



Series: It's a Magical Flashpoint [2]
Category: Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 14:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8404912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: Sam Braddock been on Team One for almost two months.  What secrets has Team One been keeping from him and what do they have to do with the Boss’s two teenage charges?  When Team One is called in to deal with a serial killer wielding a most unusual weapon, Sam encounters a world he’s seen once before.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the second in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows “At the Intersection of Magic and Technology”. This story is also set after “Scorpio” (Flashpoint Pilot).
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.

“I have the solution,” Sam reported, head down and rifle aimed at the subject.

“Scorpio,” Sarge ordered, tone grim.

Sam fired once, the rifle bucking a touch in his grip as it discharged. The subject fell, his weapon flying out of his hand and spinning to a halt near the alley wall. Sam stared at the weapon, shocked. Realization dawned as the clues he’d been picking up all day finally made sense.

The SRU constable fumbled the rifle and forced himself to calm down and place the weapon flat on the ledge. He inhaled sharply, his hands shaking a little. “Subject down, Sarge.” His voice had an icy calm he didn’t feel. Hurt, rage, and grief welled in the young blond.

“Good shot, Sam,” Ed called.

Sam ignored the praise and demanded, “Why didn’t you guys tell me the subject was a wizard?”


	2. Another Day at the Barn

_6 hours earlier_

“How’s the paperwork coming, Boss?” Ed Lane asked. The tall, lanky constable arched a brow at his boss’s scowl. “That good, huh?” he joked weakly.

Greg Parker huffed, running a hand over his mostly bald head. “I’ve filled out every last form in triplicate and now they’ve ‘taken my request to their superior’.” Sarcasm oozed from the words and the Sergeant’s stocky form as he mimicked the SRU’s Auror liaison. It was a sign of just how frustrated Greg was feeling over the Auror office’s refusal to grant his request.

Ed sighed, equally frustrated. He leaned back against the briefing room table, the room’s lights playing off his own head. His blue eyes narrowed as he considered Greg’s dilemma. “We could just tell him,” he offered, “and tell him to keep it secret till we get permission.”

The Sergeant shook his head, regret flashing over his features. His normally cheerful face frowned deeper. “No, Ed,” he replied. “As tempting as that is, we did agree to their terms. Rollie never did get clearance for this and he was on the team a lot longer than Sam has been.”

“Yeah, but we all knew he was getting close to promotion and moving off Team One,” Ed countered. “If Sam finds out on his own, he’ll think we kept this secret because we don’t trust him.”

“Oh and that won’t have anything to do with some of the assumptions you made in his first few weeks on the team,” Greg snarked. Then he winced and ducked his head. “Sorry, Ed.”

Ed tilted his head. The snap was very out of character for his normally calm, in control friend. “Don’t worry about it, Greg. If you can’t vent to your friends, who can you vent to?”

Greg managed a smile. “I shouldn’t take this out on you.”

All he got was a minor huff. “Payback for all the ‘I’m fine’s I give you.”

* * * * *

Constable Sam Braddock strolled into the barn, hands in his jacket pockets. The tall, athletic blond gave Sally the dispatcher a wide grin. The weekend had been very good for the ex-military sniper. Blue eyes sparkled below his crew cut hair with a hint of mischief as he spotted Ed and the Sarge in the briefing room. He snuck closer, hoping to find out if they were on patrol or maybe had a nice warrant to serve today.

“If Sam finds out on his own…” Ed sounded worried and Sam drew back at once. _Still keeping secrets, Ed? What, don’t you guys trust me yet?_ No longer in a good mood, Sam stalked off to the locker room. Two months and his new team _still_ didn’t trust him. Would Afghanistan follow him the rest of his life?

Still fuming at the fragments he’d overheard, he yanked his locker door open and started changing. Hadn’t he proven himself yet? Taking the rookie razzing, learning to negotiate, following orders, and even Ed Lane in a bad mood. What was it going to take to get Team One to _trust_ him?

Still stung, he deliberately paid no attention to Wordy, Spike, and Lou as they trekked in and started changing. Spike and Lou were trading banter as they changed; they didn’t notice Sam’s lousy mood. But Wordy noticed Sam’s unhappy expression at once. He watched Sam’s quick, abrupt movements out of the corner of his eye.

As Spike and Lou’s banter tapered off, Wordy spoke up, “Sam, you okay?”

Sam didn’t even look up as he replied, voice flat. “I’m fine.”

Although a blind man could have seen that Sam was anything but fine, Wordy just nodded. “If you ever need to talk Sam…”

“Fine, thanks,” Sam cut the gentle man off and stalked out.

Behind him, Spike whistled. “Samtastic’s mad.”

“Betcha I know why,” Lou offered. At Wordy’s arched brow and Spike’s head tilt, he continued, “Sarge and Ed have been going ‘round and ‘round with the liaison over telling Sam. I heard Sarge venting to Ed this morning.”

Wordy filled in the blanks. “Sam overheard them too, didn’t he?”

Lou shrugged. “That’s my guess, man. It’s a mess, no two ways about it.”

Spike was silent. “I don’t blame him for being mad,” he offered finally.

Both Lou and Wordy nodded agreement. “I’d be mad too,” Lou murmured. “ ‘Specially since it would seem like my team doesn’t trust me.”

Silence hung for a long moment. Wordy broke it with, “Sarge won’t give up. Sooner or later, he’ll wear them down and we can tell Sam.”

The other two nodded. Sarge was a bulldog when it came to backing his team. It wasn’t a matter of _if_ Sam found out, it was _when_ he found out. With that, all three finished changing and getting ready for shift.

* * * * *

Ed Lane grumbled under his breath. Sam had been prickly all morning; not even Jules had been able to get a smile out of the blond. Wordy’s quiet comments about Sam possibly realizing Team One was keeping something from him were starting to sound more and more likely. The trouble was, Team One truly had no choice in the matter. Every last member of the team had signed a binding agreement that magic was not to be revealed to anyone without the Auror Division’s express, written agreement. Caught between the rock of having their memories _erased_ and modified or signing onto Sarge’s last minute crazy idea of Team One as ‘consultants’ in high risk magical situations the choice had been easy. The consequences, not so much. Rollie had figured out his teammates were keeping _something_ quiet but he’d had enough time, respect, and trust built up that he’d just accepted the secrets. Sam, on the other hand, was still new enough that he wasn’t quite sure of his place and inclined to be resentful of all the secret-keeping. Greg had seen the potential pitfalls a mile away and had been working frantically to get Sam clearance to find out about magic and sign onto the Official Secrets Act. Sooner or later, if Greg couldn’t get permission, it was going to get ugly. Ed was betting on sooner at this point; especially with the visitors he could see coming into the barn.

Auror Wilkins led Greg’s niece and nephew toward Team One, looking as if he’d bitten into a lemon. As this was his normal expression when working with Team One, Ed ignored it in favor of rounding up Team One and herding them toward the briefing room. This, he decided when he spotted Sam’s frown, was not going to be pretty.


	3. Hot Call?

Auror Wilkins surveyed Team One as they took their seats in the briefing room. One consequence he had never anticipated when he’d brokered the deal that allowed the Muggles to keep their knowledge of the magical world was his assignment as their ‘Auror liaison’. He hadn’t bothered to hide his distaste for the assignment and had lobbied hard for someone, _anyone_ else to be the liaison, but, as far as his superiors were concerned, he had made the agreement and he would deal with the results.

He ignored the looks he was getting from the two teens he’d pulled out of school to come with him. One of the other things he’d assumed was that the young Calvins would be his main point of contact with Team One. When that had turned out to not be the case, he’d all but forced Parker to agree to have them around during any magic-related incident. Parker had been less than pleased and the kids had been equally unhappy but Wilkins hadn’t cared. It was bad enough he had to treat _Muggles_ as if they were as capable as any wizard. Today, though, he reconsidered keeping the children present as he briefed the Muggles. As much as he wanted the magical company, his superiors would _not_ be amused if Sergeant Parker complained that he had forced two underage wizards to listen to _this_ particular briefing. Accordingly, he shooed the teens outside before Parker could close the door.

For several long moments, Wilkins surveyed the room, eyeing the Muggles with badly hidden distaste. At times, he wondered why he had ever accepted Parker’s little deal. _Although_ , the unhappy Auror mused, _there are perks like seeing Jules Callaghan_. Dismissing the thought, he eyed the blond near the back of the room with distaste. Parker’s efforts to get Braddock approved and signed onto the Official Secrets Act were the latest thorn in Wilkins’ side and he wished he could simply demand the Muggle drop his newest team member instead of drowning Parker, and consequently himself, in paperwork. Sadly, his superiors had been abundantly clear on the matter. At Parker’s gentle cough, Wilkins realized that the team was assembled, the door was closed, and they were waiting on him.

Wilkins stepped forward, passing out several Muggle style folders that the young Calvins had helped him assemble. He waited until the Muggles all had folders and had opened them. “For the past several days, there has been a serial killer targeting female prostitutes in a _particular_ area of the city.”

“How many dead so far?” Lane inquired, flipping through his folder.

“Six,” Wilkins reported, expression grave. “In six days.”

“Busy,” Young observed, frowning.

“You said it’s all in a particular area?” Wordsworth asked. “Which area is that?”

Wilkins considered a moment. “It’s an area that has…several…hidden spots,” he replied, intentionally vague.

Team One, with the exception of Braddock, exchanged worried looks. Wilkins shook his head a little. While Team One _appeared_ to be taking the matter seriously, prior experience told the Auror that they would probably start trying to insist on using _their_ methods and tactics instead of the Auror Division’s long-standing, traditional ways. It was another ongoing battle and one Wilkins utterly refused to give way on. How could _Muggle_ ideas compare with the traditions of the wizarding world?

“Where were the victims found?” Braddock asked, examining the pictures in the file closely.

“All of the victims were found in alleys. There have been no signs of a struggle or…” Wilkins curled his lip in distaste, “…rape. We don’t believe he’s even interacting with his victims. No attempts to hire the women or talk to them. Just killing them from behind and leaving their bodies where they fall. As none of the witnesses have heard anything, we also believe that he’s using a silenced weapon.”

Braddock’s frown grew deeper at Wilkins’ remarks about the weapon. Inwardly, Wilkins cringed. The women had actually been hit with _Avada Kedavra_ , which left no marks on its victims. Were it not for Braddock’s lack of clearance, the Auror could have elaborated and even warned the Muggles about the killer’s status as a Dark Wizard. As it was, Wilkins fully anticipated having to explain why _Muggles_ had died trying to catch a Dark Wizard if Team One managed to stumble across the killer. Unfortunately, the Auror Division simply didn’t have the resources needed to cover all the alleys near the Toronto gateway. Hence, the need for the Muggle Team One.

Auror Wilkins cleared his throat and went on. “We have men watching most of the alleys around where we suspect he’s hidden himself, but we don’t have enough manpower to cover _all_ of the alleys.”

Parker interrupted, thoughtful, “So you mostly need extra bodies on the manhunt?”

“Yes, Sergeant Parker,” Auror Wilkins agreed. “Of course, if you have _other_ duties,” he offered, half hoping they’d see they were overmatched and back down. There was, after all, a reason he’d only come to them twice before. Muggles simply didn’t have the capabilities of the average witch or wizard, much less a fully-trained Auror.

Sadly, Parker didn’t take the hint. Instead, his eyes hardened and he announced flatly, “We’re more than _capable_ of handling a manhunt, Inspector Wilkins.” The emphasis on ‘capable’ didn’t go unnoticed by the Auror, who winced just a bit at the unspoken accusation. Apparently, the Muggles had noticed his lack of faith and trust in their abilities.

* * * * *

Sam studied the photos, hardly noticing the near confrontation between the Sarge and Inspector Wilkins. The women had been photographed with looks of fear on their faces, as if they had felt their deaths coming and been helpless to stop it. But there were no pools of blood, no signs of bullet wounds. Even if the women had all fallen with bullet wounds hidden from the camera, there should be blood pools or _something_. Honestly, Sam was shocked that no one had called the Inspector on the rather obvious lie about a silenced weapon. Whatever the killer had used, Sam was fairly confident that it _hadn’t_ been a gun. As he looked at the women’s faces again, a niggle of something nudged at the back of his mind. Something from the past…


	4. Sierra One

Greg Parker moved up to the front of the room, taking over the briefing. “Alright, team. Mr. Braddock, you’re Sierra One. Ed, Sierra Two. Spike, you’ll be my second today.”

“Copy,” all three acknowledged.

Greg nodded and continued, “Mr. Wordsworth, Jules, Lou, you’ll be patrolling the alleys and interviewing potential witnesses. Let’s see if we can add to our current information about the subject.”

“Copy.”

“Okay,” Greg clapped his hands once. “Let’s get out there and keep the peace.”

* * * * *

“Braddock isn’t cleared,” Wilkins hissed, “why are you keeping him on duty?”

Greg pinned the Auror with a glare. “My team is my problem, _Inspector_. Constable Braddock is an active member of this team and you came up with an acceptable cover story. Removing Constable Braddock now would tell him that _my team_ doesn’t trust him, something that is not true.” The Sergeant crossed his arms and added, “I’ve been patient. I’ve filled out all the paperwork. When do I get clearance to bring _my_ Constable up to speed?”

Wilkins sneered. “My superiors have yet to give _your_ Constable written permission. I cannot force you to take your uncleared Constable off duty; however, I _will_ expect your team to uphold your end of our agreement.”

The Sergeant was unimpressed. “My team has and will continue to abide by our agreement. All of my on-the-ground team members will be less-lethal.”

“And the ‘Sierra’s?” Wilkins demanded.

“They’ll be lethal.”

“That’s not our procedure,” Wilkins snapped.

Greg arched a brow but didn’t budge. “If your men confront this killer, will they be armed; permitted to defend themselves and others?”

“Of course,” Wilkins sputtered. What did the Aurors’ wands have to do with the Muggles?

“If your people can defend themselves, my team should be extended the same courtesy, regardless of the type of weapon used.”

“It’s against our laws.”

“Only the snipers will be lethal,” Greg replied. “I sincerely hope we can arrest the subject without incident, but I have no intention of taking unnecessary risks with my team’s safety.”

* * * * *

Sam settled in on his chosen rooftop, rifle in hand. With quick, economical movements he snapped the legs out and rested the bipod on the ledge. He looked through the scope and scanned the alleys for his teammates. Finished, he pulled back a little and reported, “Sierra One in position.”

“Copy,” Sarge replied. “Eddie, how about you?”

“Almost there, Boss,” Ed said, sounding a touch out of breath.

“Jules, Lou, Wordy?”

“I’m in the southeast alley,” Wordy reported. “Got a few ladies here answering questions.”

“South alley,” Jules called, “One potential witness.”

“Southwest,” Lou drawled. “All quiet so far.”

“Okay,” Sarge mused. “Lou, start patrolling the north alleys. Wordy, Jules, see if your witnesses have heard anything and then keep patrolling.”

“Copy that,” both officers acknowledged.

Sam kept his gaze roving, jaw clenched. The Inspector guy had given him a withering glare when he’d climbed out of the truck and retrieved his rifle. Sarge had seen the Inspector’s glare and delivered his own angry look to the Inspector. While the Sarge’s support was heartening, Sam was still frustrated by the secrets. That the rest of his team hadn’t even questioned the Inspector’s story of a silenced gun was yet more proof to the young Constable that there _was_ a secret that he wasn’t privy to. And something about the photos nagged at him; pulling at old memories and family history. Frankly, he hoped that the subject wouldn’t turn up while he was so uneasy and off his game.

“Sarge, it sounds like these ladies have been noticing someone hanging around lately,” Wordy reported.

“Go on,” Sarge requested.

“Tall, dark hair, dark clothes.”

“Pretty general there,” Lou pointed out.

“Yeah, sounds like this guy has kept his distance,” Wordy agreed.

“But they think they’re all seeing the same guy?” Sam asked.

“That’s what they’re saying, Sam.”

“My girl thinks she’s seen the same guy,” Jules put in.

“Any more details?” Spike asked hopefully.

“Sorry, Spike,” Jules apologized. “Nothing new here. Lou, which alleys have you patrolled so far?”

“Northwest is clear, I’m in the north alley right now,” Lou told her.

“Copy, moving to the northeast alley now.”

Ed came back on the comm. “Boss, Sierra Two in position.”

“Copy,” Sarge acknowledged. “I’ll see if our Inspector’s people have found out anything new about our subject.”

Sam’s gaze drifted to Jules. Lou had found his own witness and Wordy was still busy with the near flock of ladies in the southeast alley. Jules entered the northeast alley and made a beeline to the young woman already present. The woman was black with long hair. Sam examined Jules’ witness with his scope. The woman’s hair was tinted a goldish color near her shoulders and she had an average but curvy frame. As Jules spoke with the woman, Sam swept the area. Movement caught the constable’s eye and he shifted his attention to the shadows north of Jules and her witness.

“Ed,” he called, “got movement in the northeast alley north of Jules.”

“Copy,” Ed confirmed. “I see him. Tall, dark hair, dark clothes.”

Sam tensed. “Jules…”

Jules didn’t verbally respond but he could see her response in the scope. Almost casually, Jules started moving herself and her witness toward the available cover. Over the comm Sam heard the Inspector in the background, demanding that Team One act immediately.

Sam jumped as the Inspector managed to get a comm of his own and loudly demanded, “Shoot him!”

“Hold fire,” Sarge snapped. “Inspector, get off my team’s comm channel.”

Sam focused in on the potential subject and spied something in the man’s hand. “Jules, subject has something in his hand, might be a weapon.”

Jules edged herself and the witness a bit farther to cover. Then she pulled her sidearm and whirled toward the subject. “SRU, hands in the air!”

The black clothed man jerked back in surprise, then lifted his hand toward the constable. Jules threw herself backwards, grabbing her witness and hauling them both behind cover. A bolt of something missed the pair by centimeters. Sam yelled, attracting Team One’s attention. “He’s firing on Jules!”

“No harm,” Jules cut in. “Sarge, I don’t have a shot.”

“I have the solution,” Sam snarled.

“No shot,” Ed complained.

“Sierra One, hold fire,” Sarge ordered. “Lou, Wordy!”

“On my way,” Wordy reported.

“I’m at the south end of the alley,” Lou put in.

“Wait for Wordy, Lou,” Ed ordered.

“Copy.”

Sam stayed on the subject, fuming that Sarge hadn’t given the order. The subject had fired at Jules; he was a clear threat to Team One. Why was Sarge holding back and staying less-lethal? The sniper watched as Wordy and Lou met up, each taking one side of the alley while the subject was stalking toward Jules and her witness.

“In position,” Wordy called, weapon already at the ready.

“Go, be careful,” Sarge instructed, his voice tense.

The two SRU constables entered the alley, staying in cover. As they drew closer, Lou yelled, “Strategic Response Unit! Put your weapon on the ground and your hands in the air!”

Instead, the figure spun, weapon pointing at the new arrivals. “Down, get down!” Sam roared.

Wordy and Lou dove for cover as two more bolts shot past them. “Sarge?” Sam demanded.

“Lou, Wordy?” Sarge asked, tone grave.

“No shot.” Lou’s frustration radiated in his voice.

“No shot,” Wordy confirmed.

“Jules?”

“No shot,” Jules replied.

“Sarge, he’s getting close to Jules and her witness,” Sam reported.

There was a long pause, the tension taunt with _something_ , something Sam felt, even if he didn’t understand. He kept his gaze on the subject as the man moved closer to Jules, arrogance clear even through the scope.

Then Sarge cleared his throat and said firmly, “Scorpio.”

Sam fired once, the rifle bucking a touch in his grip as it discharged. The subject fell, his weapon flying out of his hand and spinning to a halt near the alley wall. Sam stared at the weapon, shocked. Realization dawned as the clues he’d been picking up all day finally made sense.

He didn’t register Jules, Wordy, and Lou leaving cover and closing on the fallen subject. Wordy flipped the fallen man over and cuffed him as Lou retrieved the weapon. Jules kept her sidearm pointed at the subject until he was cuffed, then returned to the witness, guiding her out of the alley.

Sam fumbled his rifle and forced himself to calm down and place the weapon flat on the ledge. He inhaled sharply, his hands shaking a little. “Subject down, Sarge.” His voice had an icy calm he didn’t feel. Hurt, rage, and grief welled in the young blond.

“Good shot, Sam,” Ed called.

Sam ignored the praise and demanded, “Why didn’t you guys tell me the subject was a wizard?”

Dead silence draped the comm for almost a minute. Finally, hesitantly, Sarge asked, “Sam, you know about magic?”

Sam growled, old pain rearing its head. “How ‘bout you ask your _Auror_ friend about that, Sarge?” With that, he pulled his earpiece off, turned the radio off, and left both next to his rifle as he stalked off the rooftop and down the stairs.


	5. Why did it have to be Magic?

“May I sit?”

The soft words brought Sam’s head up and he looked up at Sarge’s redheaded niece. Her violet gaze was hesitant and she bit her lip as she waited for his answer. Abruptly, Sam snapped his head away and looked back at the fountain. He struggled with his resentment a moment but tilted his head down. Alanna sat next to him, following his gaze to the fountain. Sam shifted as she simply sat there, not speaking. Just waiting. He snuck a look at her, expecting her to talk, to try and explain things away; not just sit there as if nothing was happening. As if his world hadn’t just come crashing down again.

“Did you know?” he demanded.

Alanna turned, arching one brow in silent question.

Sam lowered his voice as he elaborated, “About the magic?”

At first, the girl didn’t respond. She looked back at the fountain and frowned a little; her eyes going distant as she considered her reply. “Yes,” she said simply. “We knew about the magic.” She turned toward Sam and continued, “I’m a witch, Sam, and my brother is a wizard.”

Sam jerked, more startled than surprised. “So that’s how Sarge knew,” he muttered.

“Yes,” Alanna confirmed. She hesitated, then blurted out, “They… _We_ wanted to tell you, Sam, but we couldn’t.”

Sam scoffed at her. “You told all of Team One but me.” Hurt rang in his voice.

“Rollie never knew,” Alanna corrected, ducking her head. “Do you want to know why all of them know about my brother and me?”

The constable considered, studying the girl. Again, she waited, not pushing, not talking. Hurt and spite warred with his curiosity. “Yeah,” he admitted, voice rough. “I want to know.”

Alanna looked up a little, sniffling. “We came here right after our parents died,” she began. “Uncle Greg didn’t even know about us until the Auror showed up at his doorstep with us at three in the morning.”

Sam whistled at the time. “Bet Sarge loved that.”

Alanna gave Sam a tiny smile. “He’s never said. Anyway, we were supposed to keep magic secret, but then there was a hot call in the mall that afternoon.”

“A hot call? And Sarge took it even though he had you two to look after?”

The girl fidgeted. “We were already in the mall,” she admitted. “Getting clothes and stuff like that. Anyway, this clerk saw my wand and, well, my brother lost his temper at something she said and yelled at her about the magical world not being safe. Uncle Wordy was standing right behind us when Lance yelled.”

Sam winced. “So, everyone found out?”

Alanna brushed her hair back and nodded. “Everyone except Rollie; he had the day off. It was more complicated than that, of course, and well, once we got back to headquarters, the Aurors were waiting. Uncle Greg came up with the idea that let the rest of Team One keep their memories but part of it was that they had to keep the Statute of Secrecy.”

Sam looked back toward the fountain. The knot in his stomach that had been there since he’d seen the wizard’s wand started to loosen. “That’s what Sarge and Ed were arguing about this morning?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t there. But I do know Uncle Greg’s been getting really angry at how Auror Wilkins keeps dragging his feet and coming up with all sorts of new paperwork for Uncle Greg to fill out.”

“Stalling,” Sam said numbly.

“I guess,” Alanna shrugged.

Curiosity burned at Sam anew, prompting a new question. “So, did you know about the Muggle world when you came to live with Sarge?”

“Tech,” Alanna corrected. She smiled at Sam’s confused look. “Uncle Spike came up with it. Magic and technology, magical and technological, and tech or techie for short.”

“Nice,” Sam approved, grinning at the teen.

Alanna grinned back, then shook her head. With a giggle, she explained, “We didn’t know a thing. Lance called the TV a ‘felly-vision’ and we actually thought a car’s steering wheel was a ‘staring wheel’.”

Sam couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing and didn’t stop until he had to catch his breath. “That’s priceless,” he gasped.

“After the mall, we stayed with Uncle Wordy’s family for a week, while Uncle Greg got a bigger apartment. Team One couldn’t tell Aunt Shelley but we did.” She shrugged in apology but Sam just laughed again. “We couldn’t have hidden it very well anyway; it was really obvious we didn’t have a clue. Aunt Shelley started teaching us about the tech world and everyone else helped too. Once we’d learned how to use our phones, Uncle Spike dragged us to his house to meet his parents and learn video games. I don’t think Uncle Greg ever forgave him for that; Lance started lobbying for that Nintendo handheld thing right afterwards.”

“What about you?” Sam asked.

Alanna giggled again. “Aunt Shelley introduced me to tech fiction. Movies, TV shows, books, stuff like that. The magical world doesn’t have movies and TV at all and most of the books are textbooks. There’s _some_ fiction but not all that much…at least in Britain.” She considered a moment more then smiled as she added, “And archery lessons. The magical world doesn’t teach us anything but magic. Lance is learning how to fight with a broadsword and I’ve got my bow.”

“Wow,” Sam whistled. “I would have thought shooting lessons.”

“Lance wants to,” Alanna observed, nestling close to Sam. “But Uncle Greg and Uncle Ed told him he has to wait till he’s older.”

“So, you guys are old hands now?” Sam asked, shifting to better support the redhead.

“Well, I don’t know about _that_ ,” Alanna replied. “We still mess up enough that Clark and Uncle Wordy’s girls think we’re kind of odd. And our teachers are really annoyed that Uncle Greg bullied them into helping us learn the family magic. Our Dad made sure the family grimoire was packed in our trunks the night of the fire.”

“You’re purebloods?” Sam blurted in shock.

Alanna’s eyes snapped to him, violet going wide. “You really _do_ know about the magical world!”

Sam fidgeted but didn’t reply.

Alanna huffed at him, annoyed when he wouldn’t look at her. Her voice turned a little curt as she continued, “Yes, we are pureblood. If you must know, Uncle Greg’s a distant cousin.”

Sam looked away, embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings. It wasn’t her fault she was pureblood after all. Alanna held her silence as the sniper considered. After a minute or two, he turned back toward the girl. “I guess it’s my turn now, isn’t it?”

“Only if you want to,” Alanna replied. “You deserved to know, especially after today.” She hesitated, then blurted, “Are you still mad at them?”

Sam blinked at her, surprised. “No,” he said, realizing he really wasn’t angry anymore. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Team One, Lance, and the Auror approaching. “It’s not even really about today,” he admitted. “Your world’s just a really sore spot for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Alanna whispered.

Sam shook his head. “No, don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Sam fell silent and waited until his teammates arrived. “It started a long time ago, Alanna.”

Alanna met Sam’s gaze, shy and hesitant. She bit her lip, looking curious but refusing to ask.

“Alright there, Sam?” Lou asked.

“Yeah, Lou,” Sam replied. He looked around at his team. “So, you guys want to know?” he asked reluctantly.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it, Sam,” Sarge reassured him.

“I’m not,” Sam admitted. “But I think I’ve got to be.” His gaze settled on the angry Auror. “After all, it’s going to come out anyway.”

The fuming Auror didn’t bother to deny it, even as Sarge’s expression turned ominously hard. “Is that so?” Sarge asked, soft and deadly.

Wilkins looked away from Sarge’s glare, quailing a little.

Sam smiled mirthlessly. “Yeah, Sarge, I know about magic,” he started. “I’ve known about it all my life. After all, the General’s a Squib.”


	6. A Grief Shared

“A Squib?” Ed asked, forehead wrinkling in confusion.

Lance sighed a little and spoke up, “A Squib is someone born to magical parents either without magic or without enough magic to use.”

Sam tilted his head at the boy in agreement. “Most Squibs get kicked out of the magical world with nothing more than the clothes on their back. No training, no education, no anything.”

“What? Why?” Wordy demanded.

Wilkins snorted in the background, earning himself a glare from everyone else.

Alanna jumped in, “I don’t know about here in Canada, but in Britain, Squibs are considered shameful. For ‘prominent purebloods’ to give birth to a Squib is a stain on the family honor.”

Sam took over again. “It’s actually better than it used to be. Used to be that Squibs were murdered by their own family.” He shifted uncomfortably at Team One’s horrified looks and kept going. “The General was kicked out of the magical world just like I said. Took a couple years, but he ended up joining the military. The military gave him an education, a chance to work his way up, and support a family. He met Mom while he was at the Academy and the rest was history.”

“And you grew up hearing about his history?” Sarge asked, eyes glinting with interest.

The blond shrugged. “Sure, Sarge. He wanted me to know about the magical world so I’d know to never, _ever_ trust ‘em.” He fidgeted and looked at Alanna, adding apologetically, “As far as the General’s concerned, purebloods are the worst of the worst.” The redhead stiffened, hurt showing in her eyes. Sam hastily moved on, “When I made JTF2, I was tapped to join a unit made up of Squibs and the kids of Squibs.”

Spike whistled. “Your dad must have been impressed.”

Sam snorted. “More like furious, Spike. When he found out which unit I’d been assigned to, he tried to pull strings to get me moved to a different unit. First time I ever told him ‘no’.” The blond rubbed at his hair. “Turns out the General actually had a reason for that. I didn’t find out till later that our unit had wizard handlers.” He smirked without humor. “I don’t think _any_ of us trusted them, ‘specially since we were ‘just Squibs’ to them.”

“Kind of like us working with Aurors?” Lou queried, casting an annoyed look at Wilkins.

“Kind of,” Sam agreed. “We got called in whenever Afghanistan wizards started working with terrorists. We’d get a mission brief from our handlers about who we were going after and what they’d done. Then we’d go in, find our target, and take them out.”

Silence hung for a long moment. Then Ed cleared his throat. “So, did you end up transferring out of the unit?”

“No,” Sam replied, shaking his head. “That was my unit, Ed.” He swallowed hard. “Matt…Matt died on one of our magic side missions.”

Alanna wrapped her arms around Sam, hugging him hard. Sarge shifted forward, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder. The rest of Team One shifted, surrounding their rookie member. Sam blinked back his tears and kept going. “He shouldn’t have been there, we’d pulled back and I was cleared to fire. I think he was hit by the _Imperius_ or something.”

“And after?” Sarge asked quietly.

After… Sam looked down, fighting old grief and anguish. After had been so much worse…

* * * * *

“Who are you working for?” the furious wizard roared at the captive.

“JTF2,” the captive replied, his voice a monotone.

“You’re lying,” the other wizard in the room hissed, expression livid. Fresh shock and grief stood out on his face and body; Matt had been his brother and despite their differences, they’d been close.

“No, sir,” the captive refuted, expression blank.

Matt’s brother snarled and whirled to his fellow wizard. “Give him another dose!” he demanded.

The first wizard took a step back at his fellow’s vehemence. “Two doses in less than an hour could kill him,” he protested.

“I don’t care,” the grieving wizard all but screamed. “He **_killed_** my _brother_.”

There was a brief stand-off between the two wizards but the first wizard folded and nodded. He removed the bottle of _Veritaserum_ from his robes and strode to the captive. Three more drops fell into the captive’s mouth. The already blank eyes went even blanker and the captive’s eyes began to dilate. The wizards ignored the fact that the captive started to shake in his seat.

“Who are you working for?” the first wizard demanded again.

“JTF2,” the captive replied again. The monotone voice shook a little.

“Why did you fire?” the grieving wizard wailed.

“I was cleared to fire.”

“He was still there!”

The captive’s eyes flickered under the blankness. Grief touched the monotone. “I know.”

The first wizard took over, voice grim. “If you had known he was there, would you have fired?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“Matt was my teammate, I wouldn’t have fired on him.”

“He doesn’t even care,” Matt’s brother burst out.

As this was not directed at the captive, the captive did not respond. His shaking increased and sweat began to bead on his forehead. Formerly calm breathing began to turn harsh. As the two wizards argued, the captive continued to sweat and shake. His eyes dilated to the point that his blue irises were completely obscured by the black pupil. Sweat began to pour down the man’s face. Harsh breathing turned ragged and the cuffs around the captive’s wrists began to clatter with the force of his shaking.

Matt’s brother whirled to the captive. “Do you even care that my brother’s dead?” he snarled.

The captive did not reply. In front of both watching wizards, he began to convulse, falling out of the chair as he choked and his eyes rolled in their sockets. On the floor, he thrashed so hard that his leg broke against the table’s steel legs.

The first wizard raced for the door, yelling for a healer. The second glared hatefully at the thrashing soldier and he vowed to himself that Sam Braddock would _never_ , _ever_ go into combat again. He did not move to help the fallen man.

* * * * *

Sam relayed what had happened after Matt’s death in a monotone eerily similar to what he had sounded like under _Veritaserum_. Neither wizard had been charged or even reprimanded for giving him the overdose. What little trust Sam had gained for wizards and magic had been shattered. “I never told the General,” he admitted, trembling a little. Alanna’s hug grew tighter and her brother hovered, looking torn between sorrow and outrage. “My ‘handlers’ arranged my discharge; I was out before my unit even knew about it.”

“Did they add you to the SRU too?” Wordy asked, tilting his head. He kept his voice calm with an iron effort; fury simmered in the depths of his eyes at how Sam had been treated. The rest of Team One was equally furious and Sarge’s expression had gone almost frighteningly flat, as though the least little display of emotion would cause his temper to erupt.

The blond shook his head. “No, I asked my godfather for help with that.”

“Sam?” Sam looked up to see Sarge frowning thoughtfully. “How well known is your unit? On the magical side of things, I mean.”

Sam blinked, confused by the question. “I don’t think your average witch or wizard knows about it, Sarge.”

“What about in the government?” Sarge pressed, looking toward a nervous Auror Wilkins.

“Sure, they’d know, Sarge. I mean, we had to have special clearance to use military equipment against wizards.” The light dawned as Sam followed Sarge’s smoldering glare to the Auror.

Instead of waiting for Sergeant Parker to finish his accusation, Wilkins sneered. “Yeah, I knew about you, Braddock. Bet you enjoyed that, didn’t you? Killing a wizard, just like you used to.” He ignored the glares from Sam’s teammates. “Pity Parker didn’t have the sense to just dump you like your unit in Afghanistan did.”

Sam was shocked when Sarge and Wordy had to catch two junior wizard sized bullets before the teens could pounce on the smug Auror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to switch from posting on Fridays to posting on Tuesdays and Fridays, at least for now. I didn't think anyone would mind the change in schedule. Please do note that, at some point, I may opt to go back to once a week, depending on how much material I have in reserve. I'll do my very best to, at minimum, post at least once a week.
> 
> For all of my American readers and anyone else, Happy Thanksgiving in this Year of Our Lord (Anno Domini, for you Latin fans) 2016.


	7. Physics of Trust

Greg Parker didn’t lose his temper very often; he prided himself on staying cool even in the toughest negotiations. But as the smug Auror sneered at his rookie and admitted he’d known that Sam Braddock was familiar with magic, Greg’s temper, pushed to the limit by the Auror’s weeks-long refusal to let them tell Sam the truth and Sam’s revelations about his treatment at the hands of wizards he should have been able to trust, finally blew.

In an ice-cold, soft voice he asked, “Auror Wilkins, you’ve known about Constable Braddock’s past all along?”

All of Team One, except Sam, froze, eyes darting between their Sergeant and the oblivious Auror. Said oblivious Auror promptly threw even more fuel on the fire as he smirked dismissively. “Of course I knew about Braddock; _everyone_ knows about him.”

Sam flinched as if Wilkins had struck him. Greg’s already hard eyes darkened so much that it looked as though his eyes had turned to topaz. “Enough,” he growled. He stepped between his Constable and the arrogant Auror. “You _knew_ that Constable Braddock was cleared to hear about the magical world. You _knew_ that _our_ team was just as involved with the magical world as Constable Braddock’s military unit. Sam should have been informed _before_ he joined our team so that he could make an informed decision as to whether or not he **wanted** to be on another team with magic side missions. As Constable Braddock’s direct superior, I should have been informed that he was already cleared to know about magic, not given the run-around for weeks on end.” Greg leaned forward as he spoke, spitting each word like a bullet. “And you’re one to talk about Sam enjoying the death of another human being. I did _not_ clear you to snatch Constable’s Scarlatti’s headset and give _my_ team orders. If you _ever_ do that again, you will be arrested for interfering with the Strategic Response Unit’s comms.” He paused, studying the Auror. In an deadly tone, he asked, “Is that understood?”

Auror Wilkins’ own temper flared. “What gives you the right to judge me, _Muggle_? I could have _Obliviated_ your entire team for interfering with the magical world.” He gave Greg a disdainful look. “You Muggles may have gotten lucky today and managed to take down a Dark Wizard…”

“Lucky?” Ed interrupted, incredulous.

“That had nothing to do with luck!” Sam burst out, surging to his feet. “Taking that guy down is something we do every day. You’ve worked with Team One for months and you don’t even get _that much_?”

Spike gave his own sneer. “He doesn’t work with us, Samtastic. Today was only the third time he’s called us in, _ever_. He shows up to drop paperwork on Sarge and thumb his nose at the rest of us.”

Lou nodded his agreement. “He wants us to do everything the way he and his Auror buddies do things.”

“And why not?” Wilkins demanded. “Our traditions have stood for centuries, unlike anything you **Muggles** do. You demand to be treated like equals, as if _Muggles_ are equal to any wizard…”

Both teens gave furious war cries and tried to lunge at the Auror again. This time Sam caught Alanna, hauling her back as Wordy physically picked her brother up to keep him from landing a blow. This didn’t stop Alanna from shrieking, “You’re no better than a Death Eater!” at Wilkins.

Wilkins paled at the insult, opening his mouth to respond. Wordy didn’t let him. “You think just because we don’t have magic, we’re what? Less capable, less intelligent? And you think your traditions should trump police procedure because they’re older? Well, guess what. We’re _not_ wizards and you shouldn’t treat us like we are. You never even gave us a chance to show you what we can do, you just _assumed_ anything and everyone from the tech world was lesser than you.”

Jules took her own shot at the Auror. “We’re _not_ less than you. We have thoughts, feelings, lives, and dreams too. Those women you wouldn’t even interview; they could have helped you catch that guy before six women died. Your people didn’t even give them the time of day, but _we_ did. Maybe it was just a coincidence that he showed up where we were patrolling and not where your people were, but _we_ kept him from killing anyone else.”

Lance drew himself up as much as he could in Wordy’s grasp and spat, “My sister and I will not be your _intermediaries_ anymore, Auror Wilkins. If you want my Uncle and his team to help you in the future, you will ask them yourself; instead of dragging me and my sister out of school to cater to your distaste for technologicals.”

“You can’t do that!” Wilkins protested at once.

Every inch the pureblood, Lance gave him a sneer of displeasure and replied in a haughty and formal voice. “The Ancient and Noble House of Calvin will no longer assist the Canadian Auror Division in its quest to shame our cousin and his team by treating them as inferior to those of magical heritage. You have treated them as inferior by requiring myself and my sister to act as your buffers, disdaining their policies and procedures, and withholding critical information from our cousin as well as Constable Braddock. If our cousin wishes to complain about your conduct, the House of Calvin will be happy to assist in directing him to your superior.”

Sam whistled. “Wow, that’s everything but the white glove there, kid.”

Lance didn’t reply but Greg did. “I agree with my nephew. You have no right to interfere with _mio nipotes_ by dragging them out of school to deal with your resentment toward my team.”

The Auror stared at Team One as they closed ranks around Sam, Sergeant Parker, and the kids; clearly demonstrating their support for Lance and Greg’s position. Sam looked around at his team, wonder in his eyes. It was plain that he hadn’t expected their support and acceptance. The young witch still in his grip shifted enough to wrap her arms around his waist again, leaning her head against the blond’s chest. Jules reached up and put her arm around Sam’s shoulders. None of the men reached out but their stances and expressions made it clear whose side they were on. The Auror drew back, lip curling as he considered his options.

Wilkins stepped forward, drawing himself up. “Sergeant Parker, Constable Braddock, you are under arrest for killing a wizard with a Muggle weapon.”

 

_~ Ad Alia_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading my latest humble offering to the Flashpoint fandom. 'Ad Alia' means 'To Be Continued', so for those of you enjoying this story, please come back next Tuesday as I post the prologue and first chapter of my next story: Proving Ground – Flashpoint Edition.
> 
> Have a great week all, God Bless, Keep the Peace, and Happy Reading!


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